


We are What is Left Among the Ashes

by Curious_Reader



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV) RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curious_Reader/pseuds/Curious_Reader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After heartbreak and tragedy, things are bound to be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This has some suggestions of spoilers for season two. This story strongly suggests grief and loss. Please proceed with that in mind.
> 
> *disclaimer* while the characters depicted in this story are based off of real people, the situations and events are 100% fictional and purely for entertainment

Groaning, Cait woke up to the pounding headache she was expecting. Hoping he had changed his mind, she rolled slightly and felt across the cold unoccupied side of the bed. They had fought again last night, one of the worst since it had begun a few weeks before. But still, she was hoping that the few days off they had been given would allow them to talk and try to mend what had started to crack apart for them, and avoid any further damage.

Taking a deep breath, she risked opening her eyes and attempted to move to a vertical position. The world spun around her momentarily and she closed her eyes. After counting to ten she tried again, moving slower she was able to get up out of bed, and head in the direction of the door and whatever may be awaiting her on the other side. As quietly as possible, she tried to listen for any signs of life, but the house was silent. She assumed Sam would still be sleeping on the couch as she moved towards the kitchen.

As she walked past the living room she stopped. Everything was left exactly as it was last night; their cell phones on the arms of the empty couch; glasses on the coffee table; their work bags where they had been dropped. She moved into the room spotting Eddie sunbathing on the window, but no one else. She checked her phone; nothing from him, nothing from anyone about him or where he might be. It was the same when she checked his phone, no explanation.

As she walked around the room, a slow panic started to fill her chest. Just as she was about to start making calls, she saw it - a blue post-it note on the front door “Had to get away for a bit, be back Tuesday. -S” She stared blankly at it for a while as her heart rate began to slow. Cait realized with a pang that the post-it was no more than the absolute minimum to make sure she didn’t panic. There was no “I love you,” no comforting words, just a cold fact - he needed to “get away”.

She may not have fully panicked, but she was having some trouble forming clear thoughts at the moment, her mind buzzing with the words of the post-it running in a constant loop. She slumped down on the arm of the couch and just stared at the door, trying to think of what to do. All that came to her though were the events that caused his sudden need to vanish.

——-

She knew filming had been just as rough for him, knew that it killed him to keep away from her during it. Having to see the state she would be in when she got home didn’t have him in a much better one. It was all too close to home, they spent hours on set dealing with the same issue they were dealing with off of set. It was the same pain, the same hatred, the same soul crushing grief; These scenes were killing them. On the last day for these scenes they had kept it together, kept their professional faces on just long enough to make it to the car. As they pulled away and the quiet surrounded them she shattered and he stared out the window focusing on breathing. There were no more words, they both felt talked out and with precious little relief to show for it. They had stopped really talking much at all outside of work and the necessities of home life. When they pulled on to their street they had both composed themselves enough that things were, if not ok, at least stable.

When they had reached their door there was a small package left on the mat addressed to both of them. Once inside, Cait opened the package as Sam closed the door; she pulled out and read the small card that lay atop the tissue paper.

Sam heard her gasp and heard the box dropping to the floor with a thud. Turning around, he saw sheer pain in her face. Cait didn’t say anything, she merely walked away from the package and the card, moved towards the bar. She poured a drink and sat on the couch pulling her knees to rest under her chin, staring into her glass. Without saying anything Sam moved to where she had been standing. He bent and picked up both the card and the box to see what had caused her reaction. “Congratulations, I Can’t wait to meet the newest addition! All my love, Gran” His breath caught too and he shifted the box to see inside. Under the multiple layers of tissue paper lay an identical twin to the knit blanket she had made for him when he was born.

Talking a few steps towards her and fighting down the bile rising in his throat he managed to get out a quiet “Caitriona…”

“Don’t, just…don’t. You promised, you promised you would tell them, promised this wouldn’t happen.” she said still staring through her glass. He stopped moving to her and was about to try saying something when she got up suddenly stepped past him and walked away down the hall.

Weeks of emotional hell had finally come to a head last night with that sweet gift. They fought and cried for hours. Finally, when there were no more tears, no more words, she walked away towards their bedroom with hopes of nothing more than submitting to her exhaustion in the peaceful quiet of her dreamless nights. Sam hadn’t followed, she didn’t expect him to. Laying fully clothed on the bed, atop the covers, her last thought before sleep overtook her was “he’ll come in at some point.”

——-

Getting up off the couch Caitriona grabbed her phone made her way to the bedroom with surprisingly dry eyes and a plan of what to do, if only for the next few days. She pulled out her duffel bag and began making calls as she packed. Within a half hour, she had found someone to check in on Eddie and had a booked ticket to France to meet up with friends.

Packed and ready she did a last minute sweep of the house. She made sure Eddie would be fine and well provided for until she could be checked in on. Cait made sure that the windows were locked and her reservations we on schedule. She decided to leave everything as it was, leave her cell phone where she had found it this morning, leave the bags where they were, leave the glasses on the table; just leave it all for another day. For once she was just walking away.

Grabbing a post-it of her own, she wrote a quick note and stuck it directly below his as she walked out the door. “Same. – C”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story strongly suggests and mentions directly grief and loss. Please proceed with that in mind.
> 
> disclaimer: while the characters depicted in this story are based off of real people, the situations and events are 100% fictional and purely for entertainment.

Sam drove aimlessly for hours trying to clear his head. This had all been sudden, he had moved on impulse, hadn’t thought it through. He had been sitting on the couch thinking, trying to assemble the pieces of the day when the room suddenly lost all its air. It was too much - he had to leave. He shot up and headed towards the bedroom, slowing as he reached the door, listening for any indication that she was still awake.

A light snore met him and he pushed the door fully open. She was curled up in a ball, fully dressed, lying on top of the covers. He stared for a moment, just watching her breathe. Even sleeping and puffy from her tears, she was beautiful. The suffocation threatened to engulf him again as he stood there. He was torn. He wanted to go to her, to crawl into the bed and wrap his arms around her, but he couldn’t. In this room, he couldn’t breathe. He walked to the closet, packed a bag and left.

He had thought to go to his brother’s or even his mother’s but couldn’t bring himself to call them. He knew the conversations he would be forced to have; the explanations he’d have to give. It had been late when he had left, and by the time the sun began to rise he knew he needed a plan, needed to do something.

In the end he did call his brother, just saying he needed to pick up some of the camping gear he had lent him for a trip they had planned during their time off; headed out for a campground he knew near Beinn Bhàn. It would take the better part of the day to get to it, but was still close enough that if he changed his mind and went back, he would be close enough to home should something happen.

Now full dark, Sam sat staring into the fire nursing a bottle of whiskey. He tried to think of anything else but his thoughts kept going back to her. He was glad he had left his phone at home, sure that he would have called her a thousand times by now. There was a phone at the check-in desk that he used to check his messages when he got there, and planned to do so again when he woke up. It worried him slightly, being so disconnected. “What if I’m needed?” and “What if there is an emergency?” played over and over in his mind. He snorted, recalling Cait telling him “This is part of the problem: you’re constantly checking in with call and texts, constantly worrying. You have to stop, you’re becoming paranoid, Sam. And with all of this and work, it’s stress I don’t need right now.”  
_______

Cait found out on set. Looking at the results she gasped and dropped the test on the floor of the small bathroom in her trailer. She couldn't breathe for a moment. There were no thoughts, just silence. The knock on her door brought her back, she put the test back in the box and hastily shoved it all in her purse before heading out to set.  
Later, she crawled into bed, exhausted as he hopped into the shower, they had worked long into the night, returning home only a few hours before they were expected back. When he came out from the bathroom, he curled behind her and held her close, asking, “You ok? You’ve been quiet today.” She nodded and yawned into her pillow, “Just tired.”   
She had planned to wait until they were off for a day at least to tell him, though the universe it seemed had other plans. The next day they had gotten off at a reasonable hour and she had been elbows deep in the contents of what would be dinner when her phone had gone off. She asked if he could answer it, she didn’t hear much of the conversation just a few short “yeses” and noes”. While washing her hands she asked him who it was, but got no response. Rounding the corner, she found him sitting on the arm of the couch staring, open mouthed at the phone. “Who was it?” she asked again. He tried to answer, but fumbled, he cleared his throat and looked up at her neck, not able to look at her face yet. “Uh… your, uh gyne… your doctor.” He had to swallow again before finishing, “...wanted to confirm your pre…. prenatal appointment?” with his last words, he looked her directly in the eyes.

“Sam...” She tried but he cut her off, this time finding the words easier, “Are you... you’re pregnant?” She nodded, so did he, absorbing her words, he asked “How long have you known?” “Yesterday, at work,” she said as quietly as he thought her able. He couldn't breathe for a moment. There were no thoughts, just silence. Her hand on his arm brought him back. She was talking, but he hadn’t heard anything. Repeating herself she asked, “Are you okay?” He nodded again, noticing the tears that were forming in her eyes; he stood quickly and hugged her, whispering, “Better than okay.”

Nothing had seemed real to him until the doctor’s appointment. They had learned Cait was about eight weeks along and everything seemed normal and healthy. His world seemed to stop and speed up when they heard the heartbeat. He hadn’t heard a word the doctor said - hadn’t remembered leaving the office or getting home. Things finally caught up with him when they lay in bed that night. Spooned around her, he heard her ask, “Sam, are you sure you’re okay about this? You don’t... you seem…” He stopped her with a kiss, smiled and moved his hand to her belly. “Oh Caitriona, yes. I’m sorry I’ve been shit about this. It just didn’t, it wasn’t real, yet.” “And now?” she asked hesitantly. His hand tightened a bit on her stomach. “Now it is. We're going to be a family.” He leaned in and kissed her again, slow and passionately.

Over the next few weeks they had quietly begun to tell a select few about the baby. They had been met with squeals of excitement and heartfelt congratulations from their families and closest friends. They also had to tell Maril: she needed to be the first to know above everyone else involved with the show - they knew she would take the news well and trusted she would keep the information closely guarded. 

That Friday he had an early call and would be on set hours before Cait, doing what scenes they needed with just him. As such, he hadn’t noticed until they wrapped for the night that he hadn’t seen her. An assistant handed him his phone as he walked away from the crew towards his trailer, turning it on, his alerts started to come in. Looking through his phone, he saw he had 9 missed calls and 3 texts, swallowing down the fear that suddenly washed through him, he opened the messages. 

“Call me.”   
“I’m at the hospital. I’m sure it’s nothing, call me when you can.”   
“I’m home.”

Grabbing his bag, he ran, still in costume to the car, asking the driver to go as fast as possible. On the drive he listened to the voicemails. Most were from Cait, telling him the same as her texts, but the last terrified him. “Hello Mr. Heughan, this call is in regards to Ms. Caitriona Balfe, she’s listed you as her emergency contact and asked us to call you with an update. Please call…” Sam let the phone drop to the seat beside him and lowered his head between his knees trying not to be sick. When his stomach had settled, he sat back up. Grabbing his phone he was just about to dial Cait’s number, when the driver pulled to a stop outside their flat.

The smell of smoke welcomed him as he walked into their apartment. He rounded the corner to the living room and found her on the couch, cigarette in one hand and a large glass of wine in the other. Stunned, he asked the first thought that came to his mind. “Cait, what are you doing? You told me you quit years ago, and besides you know that’s bad for the bab…” He stopped himself, remembering the calls and texts at the same time she shook her head and said coldly, “Lost it. I tried to get you.” She took a long sip of her drink.

\-------

Sam drained what was left in the bottle and leaned over to add more wood to the fire. He had every right to be paranoid, to worry about missing something, worry that something might happen. Because it did, and he got there too late. It had been weeks of pain, avoidance, and silence. He just couldn’t be there anymore, couldn’t be around her. He needed a break, needed to be alone. He was mad, it wasn’t just her this had happened to, it was his loss too. So if she got to be mad and distant, then so did he - and it was absolutely killing him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! After weeks of unintentionally lying to everyone about when this would be out it’s finally done to where I think I can put it up.  
> *this chapter still briefly discusses grief and loss, though not in as much detail as previous chapter. Please proceed with that in mind. *  
> *disclaimer* while the characters depicted in this story are based off of real people, the situations and events are 100% fictional and purely for entertainment  
> Don’t hate me, I promise there is more.

Two days later, Sam came home. He dropped his bag by the door and walked into the silent apartment. The first thing he noticed was the clutter left on the coffee table and the cell phones mirroring each other on the arms of the couch. Everything was exactly as it had been when he left so abruptly two nights before. This was odd to him - normally Cait couldn’t stand glasses being left out at all, let alone for more than a day. Sam shrugged it off: few things had been “normal” lately, anyway. He cleared the coffee table and plugged his phone into charge, noticing Eddie sitting contentedly on the couch, clearly not starved for either food or attention. Scratching behind her ears, he asked, “And where’s Mom, eh?” He smiled at her gentle purr in response.

After cleaning up the living room, and switching his phone out for Cait’s to charge, he moved to the bedroom to put away his things. He was met by an unmade bed, and the closet askew from being rifled through. Worry seeped into his mind at the state of the room, knowing this was not like Cait, not how she would keep things. He pushed the worry out of his mind while straightening the bed and putting the closet to order. He only then noticed that her bags were missing. Not all of them, but the ones she customarily took on short trips, as well as her toiletry kit.

Sam had been checking his mobile's voicemail from the phone at the campsite, but had heard nothing from her and now he knew why. She had left, leaving her phone behind just as he had done, wanting to disconnect. He quickly searched the flat checking to see if there was any indication of where she might have gone. He passed the front door twice before he noticed it: the post-it note he had left, with a new one just below it. His heart clenched at her message:   
“Same. -C.” 

No other information as to the where, or why, or with whom, but just enough to let him know she had fled, just as he had.  
He absently put the note back on the door, checked his watch, and walked to the bedroom. It was late, he needed sleep. He had stayed up later than he should waiting for her, but it became clear Cait wasn’t coming home tonight. The long weekend was over and he had an early call time. Sam sunk into bed, resigned to talking to her tomorrow assuming she would be coming in directly to the set from wherever she'd been hiding.

\--------

Putting the phone down, Cait looked across the cafe table to her friend. “Looks like they won’t need me until Thursday. Mind if I stay another night?”  
Despite not having seen each other in nearly two years, Lisa was one of Cait's oldest friends. They had spent the day window shopping and talking and later had gone back to Lisa’s apartment and continued chatting over good food and wine. After refilling Cait’s glass, Lisa looked her straight in the eyes and asked, “So what happened with you and Sam?”  
Nearly choking on her chardonnay, Cait blushed. “Why do you ask?”  
Lisa laughed and raised a brow back at her friend. “How long have we known each other? You’ve never just randomly come over saying only that you missed me and needed a break. So, what’s up?”

Cait palmed her glass, trying to get her thoughts in order, then told her everything. Haltingly at first, then through tears She told her about the baby, about how the scenes they were shooting at work were killing her. Then, in a small voice, sounding almost ashamed, she told Lisa about the silence that had formed between her and Sam. That they didn’t talk anymore, just existed near each other. When they did talk, it always resulted in a fight. And finally, about the fight on Friday night and waking up Saturday when he was just gone. “It’s strange ya know?” Cait said reflectively. “I was angry at first when I saw that damn post-it, but then it was gone, and I just… it just didn’t matter anymore. I couldn’t bring myself to care that he ran away. I think I’m supposed to care.” Finishing the bottle of wine, Cait told her everything else she could, everything she had been bottling up inside her.

Lisa sighed and nodded her head. She gave her condolences for the baby. They hugged and cried as Lisa told her own story of an early miscarriage years before. She tried to talk soothingly about her understanding of the struggle it can be to move forward, together.

She smiled at Cait then and said, “I know it’s rough right now, but you guys will be okay. Remember a few years ago, when I came to visit and you showed me around the set? I saw it then, the happiness and love between you two - you’re great together. You can get through this… if you want to?”

Everything hurt: her eyes from crying, her throat from trying not to again, and her heart - God, how her heart was breaking. She knew coming here would mean talking about what was going on, talking about Sam. She had just hoped, rather naively, that maybe she wouldn’t have to; she could continue to ignore and push everything aside to be looked at later. But, that wouldn’t solve the problems. That wouldn’t fix what was breaking and it wouldn’t bring back what had been lost. And so Cait took a deep breath and let herself say the truth out loud. 

“Yeah, maybe - we could try. Hell, we might even be successful for a bit. I’m just not sure I’m up for the work it would take to get there.” She felt the tears start again at that thought and took a slow, calming breath. Lisa nodded as she poured more wine from a new bottle. “You’ll figure something out. All that matters is that you’re okay. Everything else will sort itself”   
Lisa didn’t say much more as the night progressed but Cait just talk, vent and say everything she had been too afraid to say before: her feelings, fears, and hopes. She chimed in every so often to sooth or answer direct questions, letting her know she was always safe to say these things here, always welcomed.

Hours later, it was the still dark of early morning, and Cait was out of tears and exhausted, but knew at this point sleep was not an option. Lisa had gone to bed already, so Cait moved quietly through the apartment and began to assemble her things. Once everything was in place by the door, she made a cup of coffee and went to the deck. She quietly lit the last cigarette from the only pack she bought all those terrible weeks ago and sat sipping her coffee and planning out her next steps. Filming was coming to an end and after next week they would be done for the break; she knew it was now or never; it just wouldn’t be easy.  
A few hours later, she boarded her plane and made her way back home - back to Sam.

\---------  
Cait made it home in the early afternoon. The house was empty and blessedly quiet. She knew Sam wouldn’t be home for hours: the message from Terry had just said they didn’t need Claire for Wednesday’s scenes, and to “enjoy another day off while everyone else has to work HAHA”. Putting her bags down, she moved to the counter where her phone was. Noting with a small smile it had been fully charged, she shook herself slightly and continued to checked her various alerts and messages, finding nothing urgent. Eddie, finally noticing her human was home was nuzzling her shins contentedly. Scratching behind her ears, she crooned a hello, and went to fill the empty bowl she had been expecting. Another small smile and another shake of her head when she saw a full bowl waiting for Eddie should she be hungry.  
Sighing deeply, Cait moved with determination toward the bedroom. 

By mutual agreement they had been staying more often than not at Sam’s flat. Over their months together, she had gradually brought and left things here, nothing big, aside from Eddie; but enough that she rarely went to her own flat anymore. Now, Cait spent the afternoon gathering her’s and Eddie’s things and moved them the short distance back to her own flat, not wanting to risk anything once Sam came home. When she was done she sat on his couch and waited.  
Around seven, Cait heard the front door creak open and Sam moving about in the entryway. As he turned around the small separating wall she briefly saw the exhaustion on his features, replaced with relief, then frustration when he saw her.  
“Where have you been?” he asked rather gruffly.  
She huffed out a laugh, answering “I should ask you the same thing.” She raised an eyebrow at him and continued, “I went to Lisa’s. You?”  
“I stayed in the country at least. I was camping, by Beinn Bhàn.” Sam mumbled, not really wanting to get into a row about this since he was just happy she was safe. He had worried when she wasn’t on set today.  
Cait nodded, wanting to be done with this quickly. In a more tender voice she said, “Sam…” but was interrupted by him moving past her towards the bathroom saying, “I’m going to go clean up a bit, won’t be long. She tried to stop him, but he had made it into the bedroom before she could get a word out. She could hear him moving around, getting ready for the shower. She was hopeful that maybe he wouldn’t notice just yet, but knew better when suddenly all she heard was silence from the bathroom. She sat waiting, staring down at her hands.  
“Caitriona…where is…what’s going on?” Sam said in a small voice.  
“I, I…” Cait stuttered out. This was harder than she had anticipated. She swallowed and began again. “I brought it all back to my flat, Eddie too. I wanted to make sure it…” Sam raised his hand to stop her, standing stock still in the hallway a few feet away. “Why?” was all he could get out, unable to look directly at her.

She sighed, fighting back the tears she could feel coming. In a strangled voice she barely recognized, she said “I… we can’t do this anymore Sam.” She chanced a look at him and his face before saying more. It was utterly blank, except for the wetness in his eyes; he showed no outside emotion. “We’ve been killing ourselves, we’re not… You can’t tell me you’re happy?” He nodded slightly, but didn’t speak. See his response she continued, trying to keep her voice steady, “Well then, I guess…I guess we’re done then. It... It’ll….”

She hadn’t noticed his moving closer to her, hadn’t notice that he had sat down next to her on the couch. Only noticing him when he tilted her head up and pressed his lips to hers; stopping her from saying more. She didn’t fight it and slowly melted into it, having nothing more to say. The kiss deepened and they began to remove clothing. Sam slid her down to lay on the couch, their lips never separating. They made love then, slow and tenderly. Tears fell from their eyes as they moved in silence, allowing their bodies to say all the things they couldn’t put into words. 

They laid on the couch wrapped in each other’s arms just listening to the other’s breathing when they had finished. After a while Cait shifted and began to dress; she didn’t look at him, but knew he was watching her. When she was done, she said quietly, “I’ve got to go.” She could feel him nod beside her, he didn’t reach for her, or try and stop her as she moved towards the door. Her hand had just touched the door handle when she heard his soft, resigned, “Goodbye, Caitriona.”  
“Goodbye, Sam,” was echoed back as she stepped into the building hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright ladies and gentlemen here it is! It’s taken absolutely forever to find the will and time to write, so if you’re still here and still interested, i cant thank you enough. I’ve gone over it a few times, I’ve fixed what I can, im positive it’s not perfect. But, if I don’t post it now, I never will. Please be kind.
> 
> Disclaimer: while the people portrayed may be real, the story and situations are 100% fiction.
> 
> Warning: this chapter includes some sexual content, drinking, and minimal string language. Please proceed with that in mind.
> 
> Song mentioned: “My Backwards Walk” Frightened Rabbit

Perfume filled his nose as he dragged his lips up the long Column of her neck. Her soft body moving in time with his, her hands moved slowly through his hair pulling him close. Their names fell from each others lips so quietly it was no more than a whisper in the air. Each time he palmed her breast he could feel her heart beating, pulsing with his own. She moaned at the contact and he could smell her again, warm and sweat, like flowers on a hot day. He moved up to capture her lips,rolling his hips. He smiled as Cait’s small gasps filled his ears, his own groans becoming more frequent. he moved a little faster now, knowing that just then he wouldn’t be able to make this last as long as he would like. He was suddenly desperate, each movement fast and urgent like a drunk trying for one more before last call. He would never be able to get enough. Her legs tightened around his hips urging him on, urging him to release. He was so close, just a few more thrusts and “ah!”

He held his eyes shuts, trying to catch his breath, slow his heart. The smell of sweat and sex, and Cait reach him and he could help the smile that grew across his face as he moved to pull her into his chest. The sudden decompression made his eyes snapped open.  
Blearily he looked around him to try and make sense of anything. He was on the floor, of that he was sure. He was desperately clinging to a pillow. His heart stopped, her pillow, he was holding on so desperately to her pillow…

He could hear the neighbors below his flat then, a crying baby pulling him back to where he was. The kitchen. He could hear them starting their days. The scripted laughs of newscasters, muffled conversation. Realizing where he was calmed him a bit, at least enough to let his eyes slips close again. The air kicked on then through the grates in the floor and suddenly he could smell her again, swirling around the room. Groaning with the sudden onslaught of his senses, memories started to creep back to him, each flash of memory from the night before making him flinch.

The click of the door as she left.  
The crackling sound of the ice as the whiskey poured over it.  
The shatter as that same bottle, now empty hit the wall.

He was suddenly aware of his swollen hand, the mixed taste of stale alcohol, blood and bile in his mouth. Nausea threatened then, to overpower him, he closed his eyes again quickly in an effort to keep from vomiting right then and there. swallowing convulsively to retain some dignity, if only for himself; he began to silently pray... he prayed like many have before him after a night of drinking for a quick death, he prayed for a temporary coma to wait it out, he prayed for the sweet safety of the dream he had woken from; for surely this must be the reality and the memories the nightmare. He prayed for her.

\------------

When Sam woke again everything was quiet. The smell of blood reached him first, Forcing him to open his eyes. He looked around and saw blood and glass covering the floor around him. Slowly he sat up and tried to ascertain where exactly the blood had come from. Several places it would seem. His left hand was still swollen and covered in dried blood from a fairly deep cut across his palm. Thankfully it had already begun to heal closed. Several pieces of glass had found their way into his shin and feet. Sitting against the cabinets he carefully removed those pieces. Everything hurt, his head throbbed in unison with his hand, his stomach didn’t seem stable, and he was freezing. Closing his eyes he just sat for a bit trying to calm everything down. 

After a while his body seemed calm enough that he thought he might be able to get up off the floor. Once up he looked around: the flat was destroyed. More broken glass, pillows strewn around the room, framed photos knocked down.  
carefully moved out of the kitchen he needed a shower. Sam sighed as he went, the living room looked as if he had been robbed. His hallway was littered with papers and to his horror photographs. Starting the shower and slowly removing his clothes he tried to piece together the previous night.

\-------

“Goodbye, Sam,”  
The soft click of the door was the only sound he heard for a very long time, it drown out the normally muffled sounds of the streets outside, and silence enveloped him. He knew she hadn’t walked away yet, knew she was still standing there, and knew she was trying to find the courage to walk away. He was fighting a similar fight, every atom in his body was working to keep him from stopping her. Finally, as the last of his resolve threatened to leave him he heard the soft footfalls retreating from him door, she had found her strength, she was gone.  
Still on the couch he couldn’t move, shallow breaths seeming to be the only thing his brain was capable of doing. Minutes or hours later he could be still hear her quiet retreat. With each remembered click of a heel, tears began to fall. He only moved when they had finally stopped, having not wanted to miss even a moment he could get with her. Turning towards his liquor Sam opened the first bottle his hands came across, brought it to his lip and drank until everything burned. Looking down at the now half empty bottle he grabbed another and headed back to the living room. The indicator light on his phone caught his attention. He quickly unlocked without thought and his breath caught in his throat at his lock screen. A picture of them, last year at his mother’s birthday party. There were smiling, Cait was kissing his cheek in the back yard. His grip tightened, but he fought the urge to snap the phone. He made sure that there was nothing immediately needing his attention, and shut off the phone.

He couldn’t get her words from the conversation last night to stop repeating in his mind “We’ve been killing ourselves, we’re not… You can’t tell me you’re happy.” He didn’t remember then how he had responded to her then, but knew it couldn’t have been much. He still doesn’t know the correct response to it. He had tried to think about it, was he happy? Was he unhappy, and if he was, was it them, or was it the response from what had happened? He took another long pull from the bottle avoiding those thoughts for the time being, and turned on the stereo. A familiar yet deceivingly upbeat tune started to play, the lyrics helping him move from pain to rage. Three and a half minutes was all it took for him move seamlessly from the steady stream of silent tears and aching to a rage that began to build with each lyric. He yelled then. “Who the hell is she then? How can she just make this decision? What about me, don't I get a say?”

He hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping the stereo remote in his hand until he heard a crack and felt the casing move under his hand. He stared at the broken plastic in his hands and with as much force as he could muster he spiked it to the floor followed shortly by his now empty bottle. The glass shattered into a million pieces, and the lyrics finally reaching him was the last thing he could remember.  
“I'm working on erasing you  
Just don't have the proper tools  
I'll get hammered, forget that you exist  
There's no way I'm forgetting this”

\-------

His shower hadn’t help as he had hoped it would, he was still in pain, and from what he could piece together of the night before, he knew it wouldn't get better anytime soon; this was just the start. He stared at himself in the mirror for what felt like forever, just observing, he noticed how much older he looked, how exhausted, how empty. He looked like a man waiting for Death.

He pulling his eyes away to bandage his hand, get into some clean clothes, and make his way back to the living room. He carefully cleaned up as much of the glass as he could, piled the electronics and papers on the coffee table. He tried and failed to clean all the blood; his nausea returning at the smell. Deciding to try again later, he made something to eat and sat back on the couch reaching for his phone. The screen was in pieces, but on. Avoiding the sharp edges he found he was still be able to use it. Sam went through his alerts, checked his emails and text, choosing for the time being to ignore them, and checks for any missed calls.

Looking at the screen his stomach plummets, and he slams his eyes shut and begins swallowing . 

“No, oh fuck me, no” 

The immediate worry of vomiting eases and he looks again. Glaring brightly back at him is his call history.

He had called her… several times… had left messages, or maybe talked to her…  
Sam couldn’t stop it this time, didn’t have the time to run to the bathroom; just pulled the trash bag next to him and emptied everything into it. There was nothing left of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!!! It's finally here, and look at that just under 6 months between chapters! Maybe I'm getting better.
> 
> I'm so sorry for the incredibly long wait and I can't thank you enough for sticking with me. That really does mean the world to me.
> 
> I'm sure this could be better, I tried my best. However on reread number 5, I have to be done. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> As always comments and constructive criticism is always welcomed.
> 
> *disclaimer*   
> While the people in the story are real, the events and situations are 100% fiction and entirely for entertainment.

She was fine, perfectly fine. To anyone who looked, it was just another day. She was still Cait, she still smiled and told jokes, she made plans and kept busy. Everything appeared to be business as usual; and that was exactly how it was supposed to be. She had never been one to outwardly show distress or any real emotion. She did as expected, she was calm, cool, and collected at all times. Thankfully, no one here knew her tells, no one at work knew her quite well enough to pick up on the little things. Well, no one right then at least. No one would notice her biting her nails, picking at her clothes, or how quickly her fists would ball up when talking to anyone. These were the defenses she had developed years ago.

Today was just another day at work, nothing could be different. Despite what she knew was coming, she was confident in how her performance would play. If nothing else she had, had years of training under her belt to show nothing at all. So, from the outside she would be fine, normal, ready for a day of pick-ups and voice overs. 

She had worked herself into a frenzy though, her mind a swarm of imagined situations and conversation; mixing seamlessly with hope and dread. Pouring herself yet another cup of coffee, she tried desperately to calm her mind, bringing forth the white room that had always calmed her before. In that imaginary room, there was nothing, no work and plans, no sound, no hearts, nothing. Another mechanism. She could completely clear her mind and start to relax, block out everything. It was working too, between the hot coffee and the white room her shoulders relaxed, her breathing evened out and she was no one; until a door opened and in he came. Suddenly, she was no longer sure if she could play this part. 

\-------

A single door closing had never sounded so loud to her before. The click echoing in the hallway, deafening to her mind and forever altering the rhythm of her pulse. She stood there, in front of his door for what could have been seconds or years. She stood there until her eyes ran dry and her brain forgot the coding for movement. She stood there counting to any large number she could think of, then began again until she could have told you the number of stars in the sky. Waiting. She knew what she was doing, she was waiting. She was waiting for him, waiting for herself. She waited for the romantic music to start and the lead to rush out begging her to stay, Waiting for happily ever after; but none of it came. What eventually did come was the silence and worst of all her thoughts. Doubt came flooding back and right behind it was regret. She went to turn around and go back; but when her hand made contact with the cool metal handle, so did her pain and anger. Before more emotions could come to her and her strength had time to fail, she re-learned how to walk. One foot in front of the other down the hall and into the quiet chaos of the night. 

The night had always been her ally, a warm dark blanket of anonymity; that allowed her the freedom to just exist. Stepping onto the streets, the chilly air hit her and finally the urge to… fight, scream, flee, anything but just standing there, near him, engulfed her. That was the bitch of it really. While she knew this was for the best, that they had both played a part in getting here; when all was said and done, all her heart wanted was to turn around. Run up the stairs and tell him everything, let him hold her and promise forever; be what they were. Instead though, she closed her eyes, spun twice in a circle and walked away.

Cait’s flat was only a few short blocks from Sam’s. She was there all of ten minutes. Eddie was fed, an overnight bag was packed and the doors locked as she left everything else behind. The world could wait for a night.

Despite her will to run as far away as her bank account and passport would take her, she still had to be in the area. She’d be damned though, if that meant being too close. She booked a night at decent hotel across town, stopped at a corner store and purchased everything needed to thoroughly regret this night in the morning. 

A bottle of wine, two airplane bottles of vodka and nine cigarettes later; she finally cried. She hadn’t before, not really. While she had shed a few tears, she never achieved the cleansing relief that tears were supposed to bring. Her chest would get tight, the world seemed to slow as her ears rang, but nothing ever came. Here though, in a room not her own away from everyone, she could allow it to all rush over her. She welcomed it. The burning lungs, the sudden stabbing sensation in her head, the memories. She looked to it to help her heal; but she forgot that sometimes healing is more painful than the original injury. Neither the world nor herself seemed to exist then. Memories assaulted her, getting stronger and more vivid with each one. They became a movie of her past. Her sobs, the soundtrack; and try as she might, she couldn’t shut it off. 

A little boy on the playground shoving her off the slide

A classmate mocking her slight stutter when reading aloud

every boy’s name she ever doodled on a notebook  
Models mimicking her accent

The grains of wood on her grandfather’s coffin.

Each and every rejection from a job

Sam’s eyes

His shirt from uni that hung in their closet

Their anything

The white sterile sheets of the A & E

The color of the doctor’s mask

The smell of the antiseptic

Blue post-it notes

The sound of the tissue paper being pulled away from a small knit blanket

Desperate, Cait tried thinking of happy things, sunny days, ice cream, kittens; anything. Nothing she could do seemed to stop the onslaught. Praying to anyone listening that this at lease would stop her memories, she opened a second bottle of wine. That was her last clear thought. 

A vacuum woke her up, sounding very much like the person cleaning was attempting to clean the pillow she was currently using. She cracked one eye and attempted to focus the room enough to find the clock. It was still early, there was enough time to get up and get to her flat. She could still check her phone and talk to Maril; see if she was needed for today. She hoped not, she’d rather not have to explain everything just yet. That brief thought alone was enough, her stomach flipped and she launched herself out of bed and into the bathroom. The vacuum could no longer be heard.

Looking around her rented room, nothing was askew, everything was in its place. The exception being empty bottles, a slightly worse for wear cigarette pack, and a cheap lighter. Thankfully, Cait was never a destructive drunk, at least not towards much past herself. If things were normal, this is how she would want them, tidy and ordered. Today though, she longed for destruction. She lay there and hoped above hope for something shattered, something that didn’t look perfect. Because, to her, if she couldn’t show her internal wreckage, the lease the world around her could do was look a bit battered.

\-------

Taking a sip of coffee she willed her hands not to shake. It was her only shield, the only thing near enough to provide her with time. When she assumed it safe, she looked up. That was her mistake, she thought she was prepared for what she’d see, and once upon a time she would have been right. She was very suddenly reminded of every documentary she’d ever seen on sharks. His eyes seemed to be unseeing; but she knew better. He saw everything, wouldn’t miss a movement. She stared at him, allowed herself the luxury of a moment to read his face; but there was nothing there. No recognition, no illumination, no feeling. She stopped silently begging him when she saw it, stopped holding out for the hope that she might have been wrong. Instead of the cold dread she had felt before, the coffee seemed to have ignited her blood. Staring into his eyes, her own going shark-like,  
She hoped that this killed him.  
She hoped that standing right here was just as painful for him.  
She threw away her coffee cup, and walked away; hoping that he was fine. Perfectly fine.


End file.
